Rerun of Our Lives
by Harryba
Summary: After a breakup with Kurt, Blaine finds himself in Westerville, and in an act of rage, has revenge sex with a former spark. It's when they find happiness in their former misery that they realize the significance of Dalton Academy in their lives. Blaine and Sebastian narrate in alternating chapters. M for scenes of a sexual nature and swearing.
1. Chapter 1

Why is it always raining at those moments of intense sadness? Some people would argue that there is something lyrically perfect about tears and raindrops mixing as they fall down your face, but, for me, there was nothing especially bliss about soaked skin.

So, there I sit in what was once a beautiful purple cardigan which looks almost grey in its dampness, and the slick gel in my hair has washed out leaving me with what I can only imagine now looks like brown tumble-weed.

My heart sinks with every aching thought about Kurt, but, it's not a regretful ache; it's anger. It's a rage that makes me shake violently all over; or, maybe that's the freezing cold, I can't quite tell but it's certainly enough to make me curl up as best as I can.

Where am I? I've been standing here for so long I can hardly remember.

Ah, yes, Central Avenue in Westerville, the only place I could think to go to in times of 'tragedy' like this. It wasn't a choice I remember making, travelling across Ohio like this, but rather an instinct, like a homing pigeon who couldn't remember being programmed in the first place.

I'd take shelter under the bus-stop but there is a group of rather unfriendly looking hoodies gathering underneath. Even horrible looking street-folk have better circumstances than I do.

Why Westerville, though? The reason was a certain savour; the savour who hadn't yet swooped in to save this damsel in distress. In fact, my hero was about forty-five minutes late. Some luck I'm having.

Chilled and damp to my core, I saw the very man I was waiting for running to my aid.

No, he wasn't running for me. He hadn't seen me yet. He was running to get out of the rain. I had one shot at this, and I expected failure as rain dripped down my chest and abdomen.

If I didn't know better, I would have said Sebastian was wearing a cape and hood like a modern day superhero like Batman or The Flash, but, I could tell from about fifteen feet away that it was his Dalton blazer pulled over his head to shelter him from the downpour. Clever, but he always was.

He's close enough to see me now. His running halts, and instead he takes the remaining few steps over to me with a facial expression I can't seem to decipher.

"B-Blaine? Is that you? What're you doing here?" he said. I suspect he hasn't been in the rain for as long as I.

"I…so sorry…I didn't know where else to go…me and Kurt had a huge fight and…now…" I couldn't finish my sentence properly. I should leave now before I embarrass myself more.

"Come here…you're coming back with me"

Wow.

I didn't expect him to understand or accept that so easily, but he did.

"Sebastian…thanks! That's really…really kind!"

My lips chatter in the coldness.

"Here, none of that!" he exclaims, and before I can speak again, his blazer is already wrapped around my shoulders, and his long, muscly arm is coiled around my back and sits on my shoulder as he ushers me the remaining distance and into his apartment. He had no other layers on apart from his shirt and tie; he must have been freezing cold after his heroic sacrifice. Why was he being so kind?

The door is closed, locked and the lights flicked on. Perhaps if I wasn't oozing rainwater from every limb I would be more appreciative of how beautiful his apartment is. It's a sizable place, with a kitchen and lounge in one room, and a bathroom with ensuite attached by a small hallway. The furniture is so classy, but, then, I wouldn't expect any less from a gay son of a state attorney.

He fetched a warm feeling towel, turned on the central heating and thrust the towel and a neatly folded, navy blue hoodie with 'Dalton' and its logo printed in red.

"Sorry, it's all I could find – it should do, right?" he asked me.

I forgot to pack some extra clothes in the midst of the swearing and shouting. Kurt has probably burned them by now, I suspect.

"Thank you…this is really too much."

"Nonsense!" he said chirpily. It sounds like he's happy to see the boy who rejected him show up at his door, soaking wet and begging for help.

"Just through there is my bedroom, and then my bathroom. Take a shower, clean up, do whatever. Help yourself to soaps…" he began, listing off a series of optional tasks to do.

Once he had finished speaking, I nodded again, and dragged my wet shell of a body to the bathroom. He followed me as far as the bedroom. Luckily he wasn't too wet. He undid his top button on his shirt, and flicked his shoes off whilst I walked into the ensuite, and I closed the door, giving him a little smile as I did.

I began to dry my hair, which became curlier and curlier with every rub of the fluffy towel. The drying process warmed me up, but the vigorous action cause very minor friction burns as I dried myself with rage. How could Kurt just argue me out of the door, and not even care where I went? I'm so mad.

"So, you never said what you were arguing about!" Sebastian called through to me. I continued to dry myself off and took my shirt and cardigan off, folding them neatly on a pile with my trousers and shoes.

I slipped on the hoodie. It's one of Sebastian's hoodies. It's far too big for me that I have to roll the sleeves up past my elbow, and in length it goes nearly as far as my knees, covering my briefs but keeping me altogether warm; which was helpful since I didn't have any dry pants. It smells of him…and it's a smell I'm so fond of.

"We just had a general falling out…I can't see us getting back together soon, though."

I might have said that in a rage induced tantrum, but, it's probably true.

I unlock the door and walk into his bedroom. He's made me a hot chocolate. He's acting like my mom, and I'm letting myself be pampered like his boy.

He leans in closer to me as I sit on a small chair, and puts his muscled arm around me again. His grip is firm, but comforting. I still shudder with chill and anger.

"I'm just so angry, Sebastian…it's not even my fault…" I cry out, and stamp my foot childishly as I produce tears again.

My head is pulled in closer, and rests against his chest. It's an odd feeling of his hard pecks covered in the softness of his white shirt, but I feel safe here.

Or, perhaps I feel more.

He's stroking my arm with his large, thin hands now, and I feel less violent and angry than I did before.

But something comes over me and my arms and hands are taken over by a force that I can't control. This supernatural takeover, I suspect, comes under the category of 'sexual tension' or something to that extent as my hands reach over like bear paws, grab him by the side of the face and pull him in for a smooch. Our lips lock, and, because I imagine Sebastian will push me away, I quickly intercept any movement by grabbing his waist and thrusting him onto the bed.

I follow him down onto the bed and press my knees against his chest as my lips fumble around and passionately kiss his neck, freeing his mouth.

He should've said something by now. I see his lip quivering, so, he's going to speak soon. He'll tell me that I'm a crazy little bastard and he'll hit me away.

"Urgh…Blaine…are you sure about this…?" he said, breathless from our tonguing.

I didn't need words to reply. I pulled his shirt upwards to reveal his abdomen, and a line of defined, tall abs sit in a cluster, waiting to be kissed.

And I do just that, and kiss each of the six of them, letting out a small hiss from Sebastian as I do. I then take my tongue and follow the trail of hair from the line of his pants upwards, across his abs and then bestow a kiss on his chest.

Why hasn't he stopped me yet?

I think I know, actually…


	2. Chapter 2

Blaine's tongue on my body produced a shiver which, I suspect wasn't a cold shudder but rather a sexually charged one; Blaine's tongue and mouth was warm, and, I don't know why I like it so much, but when he kisses me it's like a tame fireball of hot air is forming in the space between our locked lips.

I'm lying flat now, sprawled in a star shape across my own bed with Blaine's hips pressed firmly against mine. One of his hands is reaching up my shirt and grasping around the edges of one of my pecks, and the other clasped around my arm. I had to strain my back to be able to reach his lips because I'm much taller than he is, but it won't stop me. This position is oddly unsettling. It's _my_ bed, and usually in _my_ bed it's _me_ who has the control, but, this new Blaine is oddly aggressive. I like it, though.

We must have been kissing for about ten minutes in the same position, but it felt like we had an eternity ahead of us to carry on this kiss. I would have been fine with that, but, Blaine seemed to have another agenda. He broke away from my lips, pressed upwards and takes my hips in his hands, unclasping my belt in a swift movement. He pulled the belt out of its loops like an archer seamlessly pulls an arrow from his quiver. The belt is tossed aside, and my trousers are undone quickly. The animal that has taken over Blaine reaches into the open pants and gropes my package. My back arches in a mix of shock and pleasure, and I let out a wheeze.

"Blaine, what are you doing?" I ask. I'm not genuine, I want this, but, I would feel guilty at this stage, it's almost like I'm taking advantage of his recent misfortune.

"I'm going to jerk you off for a bit and then have angry revenge to get back at Kurt!" he says in a way that I've never seen him before. I assumed that sexual frustration and sheer rage has warped him into another version of himself; perhaps not a true version, but certainly a hotter one.

"Oh…well get to work, stud," – 'Stud'? What am I even saying? Why am I letting this happen?

Am I really going to let somebody I've not spoken to in at least a year just walk in, and use me and my body to get revenge on his ex-boyfriend who hated me with a fiery passion?

Yes, I seem to decide without saying anything. I lock my fingers into his hand and kiss up his left arm while, with his right, he started to jerk me off through the cotton fabric of my briefs.

"Fucking hell Sebastian, you're huge!" he exclaimed, taking both hands to my crotch, as one hand pulls the flaps of my pants aside while the other continues to play with my tool through inside it's box.

Truthfully, I wasn't even fully hard by this point, and he's already telling me that I'm huge.

I have been told it's pretty sizable.

And last time I measured it, it was about six or seven when floppy, and just over eight when hard.

Soon, Blaine got bored. He pulled down my pants and underpants in one clean movement, and my now fully hard cock sprung out at a ninety degree angle to me, standing proud like a monument. He just stares at it, a small bit of dribble falling from the side of his mouth.

While he does that, I reach over to the drawer beside my bed, and as I do my dick wobbles from left to right, and Blaine follows it like a dog follows a bone. I procure lube and a large condom, passing them over to Blaine, who drops them on my abs, freeing up his hands.

The Dalton hoodie he wears, my hoodie, is far too big for him, but, I do hope he keeps it on...he looks stunning it in. He reaches up underneath the top, pulls down his briefs, and flings those forwards without aiming. They land over my face, and I sniff briefly, smelling a salty smell; precum.

From underneath the almost dress-length hoodie, Blaine's penis started to appear.

He was hard. He was big. He was wet.

I decide that Blaine taking control is too hot to lose, so, I lay back, puffing out my chest and twitching my cock so that it throbs as he stares at it still.

"Are you getting on or not?!" I ask about a minute later.

He snaps back into reality again, puts the condom wrapper in his mouth and tears it open. The rubber ring goes on the tip of my eight inches of steel, and he rolls it down slowly, smirking in what looks like an uncomfortable, gassy way, but what I think is actually a degree of nervousness.

Once the condom is at the base of my shaft, Blaine climbs over, using his arms (which are more muscular than I remembered) to hover over the top. I give him a hand, grabbing his cheeks and spreading them, sticking in a finger from each hand as he lowers himself over the top of my cock. I feel my length get tighter as it's encircled by his pert hole. I let out a little moan of pleasure, but he lets out a scream of pure jubilation.

He's about two inches in, and still another six. He forces the third in.

"Aaaaaaaaaaoooooohhhh"

I thought his moaning would be hot. When I dreamed this moment, his little girly moans were hot. But, in real life they were annoying. I reach over, grab my briefs and shove the in his open mouths so that his moans were suppressed by the fabric, and I could see he was sucking on the salty taste of my precum which soaked through.

Once he had all of my meat inside of him, he let out a final moan as if I had shattered his pelvis, but, I realised now that I had hit his prostate. His eye widened harshly, and a small tear of pleasure dropped from his eye and onto my abs.

He then bucked his hips slowly, building up pace. He has such fluidity in his waist, and I remember seeing it from his many dances with and without the Warblers. The pace soon increased until he was moving so fast that one hand ran its fingers through my hair and clawed on tightly. The other hand reached down to his own throbbing, otherwise neglected cock, which was nearly as impressive as mine, and he began to jerk it. His rhythm was odd on his wanking but it was probably because he was moving fast as he bounced on my cock. With every second, his tight hole squeezed around the base of my cock, and then the next second it was tugging its way up about five inches as he bounced upwards. All of the while, the huge head of the huge cock was pressed against his prostate. Each time I pounded it his cock throbbed.

The more he fucked himself on my cock, the more his facial expression change. Firstly, his eyes flickered quickly, and his lip quivered. Then, I saw his cock throb one last time, and although trying to supress a moan by biting his lip, he cried out loud and sneezed in orgasm.

The six or so inches of his member became a runway for cum as it shot from his tip.

One load on his hand.

Two loads on my abs.

Three loads on my face (he had become limp after the first shots, and had leaned forward more).

And then, as he fell off of my still rock-solid cock, he fired one more load on my pube-line.

Then, as if animal Blaine had never existed, calm, sweet, innocent Blaine lay on my body, my Dalton hoodie now covered in his thick, stringy seed.

"Oh, Sebastian…I've made a mess…I'm so sorry…" he said, panting between timid words. This was the Blaine I remembered.

He began to wipe down my face with his hand, kissing me briefly (which in fact was a kiss with his cum in our mouths) and licked the last cum from my waist.

My cock stood to attention like a saluting soldier. I had become the horrible, frustrated, slimy boy I used to be, waiting for somebody to finish me off.

In the end, I had no resolve. My nasty side took over, and I grabbed the fragile boy by the arms, flipped him underneath and began to continue fucking him. It seemed to hurt him more than before, but he seemed more beautiful than ever. I was finally fucking the boy from my dreams, the boy that I fancied for well over a year.

"Bas, there is something I need to say" Blaine said softly after we had laid there for about fifteen minutes.

This was it, I thought. This was where we say "I love you".

"Me too…I mean, I have something I need to say"

"Oh, okay. Well, let's just…both say it on three?" he replied. It must be those three words. The timing was right.

"3…" I was about to say how I felt to Blaine Devon Anderson.

"…2…" The same Blaine Devon Anderson who rejected me over a year ago, but is now naked in my bed after having been fucked by me…

"..1…" This is it!

"I love you" – "I miss Kurt!"


End file.
